


Lost and Found

by cloverpaloma



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: College?, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, Implied Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Jason is a Dork, M/M, chapter titles are song lyrics, fake identity, stephanie brown is alive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-06 08:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15190397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverpaloma/pseuds/cloverpaloma
Summary: "They hadn't looked for him."Tim is a little lost, and Jason decides to find him.





	1. I thought I could fly

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first ever story on AO3, so I hope you enjoy!

Tim could feel something rising in his chest, hot and ugly and mean. He tried to wrap his head around what he had just found.  
They hadn’t looked for him.

He had been using the computer in the Batcave to work on his first case back, a simple bust of a gang that had been knocking over convenience stores and roughing up the cashiers. Bruce had refused to give him anything tougher, and Dick had been breathing down his neck asking if he needed help with anything. Even Damian hadn’t been as caustic as before.

But he had said no, he could do it on his own. After three months captured and four months recovering, he was ready to get back into the field. So he had trekked down to the cave after coming in from patrol and logged on to the computer, started scrolling.

His own file had tempted him, big and blue and right under the name of the gang he was investigating. He had only hesitated a moment before clicking, and then immediately scrolled down to the time he had been missing. There had been nothing. So he refreshed the file, scrolled back down. And all it said under the status from February to April was “dead.” There had been no extensive search, even though they never recovered a body. No long, hard to follow reports of what steps had been taken to prove not only that Tim wasn’t dead but also where he could be found. Tim had made hundreds of those documents when Bruce died, when Kon died, when his dad died.

They hadn’t looked for him.

So it had left him here, hot tears pooling in his eyes and bitterness and resentment pulling him apart. He had never given up on any of them, even when it looked like there was no hope. But the second he was gone, they had forgotten and moved on. He wiped the tears away roughly and clicked on the next report that had been filed three days after his own death notice.

A bank robbery.

They hadn’t looked for his killer, either. They had gone right back to their normal lives.

He was running up the steps before he could think of a plan, but he had to know. He burst through the entrance from a coat closet and made his way to the kitchen, removing his mask as he went. They were all there: Alfred and Damian washing the dishes, Dick, Jason, and Steph sharing a bowl of popcorn, and Bruce mending a rip in his cape. They looked up when he came in. Dick noticed how red his face was first, and got up.

“Hey, baby bird,” he said, starting to reach for Tim’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t touch me,” Tim hissed, flinching away from his hand.

That got everyone’s attention. Alfred turned off the water in the sink and Bruce put down his suit. Dick’s eyes widened as he backed up.

“I’m sorry, Tim. What’s wrong?”

He felt his jaw working, trying to push the words out. He was so mad, so hurt, that he almost couldn’t catch his breath.

“Tim,” Bruce said, voice low and serious. “Are you alright?”

“You didn’t look for me!” he yelled, words exploding past his lips.

Everyone stilled.

“What do you mean?” Dick asked.

“After the...after...after you thought I died.” He took a shaky breath, trying to stop his own shaking body. “You didn’t even look for me.”

“That’s not true,” Damian interjected, crossing his arms. “We searched that building for days and we found nothing. We had to come to the conclusion that you had perished.”

“You didn’t find a body,” Tim said, clenching his fists. He turns his eyes to Bruce. “Do you know how long I looked for you? How deep I dug to prove that you were still alive? I went to hell and back for you! I gave up everything for you!”

Bruce looked like he was breaking. “Tim…”

“Steph,” Tim said, his heart breaking at how guilty she looks. He can’t blame her, not now.

“Tim, we’re sorry,” Dick pleads, still trying to reach for him.

“Don’t. And you!” he yelled, looking at Jason. “You’ve been dead before, you know it’s possible to come back! I knew you hated me, but not enough to really want me to stay dead!”

Jason is tense, and the lines on his forehead get deeper. “We all really did think you were dead. I didn’t want you to be, Timbo.”

“Don’t call me that!” he screamed, a little hysterically, because Kon called him that, and they hadn’t looked for Kon, either.

“Master Timothy.” Alfred. Alfred, who had taken care of him so many times, told him with a little twinkle in his eye that, yes, Tim was the favourite.

“You gave up on me,” Tim said, voice breaking. “You didn’t want me back.”

Steph was crying, Dick was crying, and Bruce looked a little bit teary, too. Jason and Alfred looked angry, and he’d never seen Alfred angry before. Damian was the only one who seemed unaffected, and Tim could appreciate his sameness as everyone else let him down.

“If there was a glimmer of hope, Drake, we would have held onto it.”

Something snapped inside him. Suddenly he wasn’t shaking, wasn’t this close to completely losing it. He was cold all over, numb. He looked each of them in the eye, then looked down at the mask he held in his hand. He threw it down to the floor with contempt.

“I would have done anything, for all of you. And I do, all the time.”

Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. And Tim decided, right then and there.

“I’m done,” he said, quietly. “I’m done.”

And he spat on the Red Robin mask, just to drive his decision home. He walked out of the manor without looking back.


	2. I think I need a sunrise

He had an apartment across Gotham, one he had never listed in any records just in case he needed to get away to a place no one could find him.  
He had not imagined that it would be like this.

He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and continued putting his belongings in a suitcase. He had no plan except to get in his car and get out of Gotham, get as far away from all this as he could. He was leaving his Red Robin suit, all of his pictures, most of his suits. He was going to drive until he ran out of gas, and then settle wherever that was. He would move whenever he wanted, travel for himself like he had always wanted. He had seen the world as a Bat, but he still had no idea what it looked like.

A knock interrupted him. He spun to face the door, but no one kicked it down or tore it from the hinges. Maybe it was one of his neighbors?

He hurried to the door and peered through the peephole. He sighed, then unlocked the door and opened it.

“Tim,” Cass said, looking up at him with her big eyes.

“Hey, Cass,” he said, scratching his neck. “How’d you find me?”

She gave him a look and he grinned, opening the door wider.

“You want to come in?”

“No,” she answered, shifting the bag she held on her back. “Just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Oh.” Suddenly the magnitude of what he was doing hit him, and he swallowed. “How’d you guess?”

“It’s what I would do.”

Her honesty surprised him, but calmed some of his nerves. “I don’t know where I’m gonna go. I don’t have a plan.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t need one.”

“It’d be nice to have, though.” 

Cass nodded. “Yes.”

Tim sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You sure you don’t want to come in for a minute?”

“If I come in, you might not leave.” She gave him a small smile. “I will miss you, but this will be good for you, I think. Stay safe, Tim. Don’t leave forever.”

Tim laughed. “I’ll be back.”

“Gotham is a magnet,” Cass responded, reaching forward to brush his hair from his forehead. “An unfortunate magnet.”

“Well,” Tim said, “at least there are a few good people.”

Cass nodded, then slung the bag from her shoulders. “I have something to give you.” She handed it to him and waited expectantly as he opened it.

“Cass, you sure know how to spoil a man.” He dug through the various IDs, passports, and official papers. “Where’d you get all this stuff?”

“I make them for everyone.”

Tim raised his eyebrows and hummed. “Well, I owe you.”

“No.”

He laughed, then pulled her into a hug. She only hesitated a moment before reciprocating. “Who told you what happened? You weren’t in the kitchen.”

She disentangled herself from him. “Jason. He was going all, how do you say, ‘bat-shit crazy,’ on a petty thief. I had to intervene.”

“Yeah.” Tim rolled his eyes. “He’s mad I didn’t just fall at his feet for once.”

Cass’ eyes bored deep into his. “Maybe."

Tim held out a hand. “It’s been a pleasure, miss.”

She smiled sadly. “Indeed.”

“Don’t tell them I’m leaving. Please.”

She nodded, slowly, and shook his hand. “Be okay.”

And then she was gone, walking down the hallway towards the elevator before he could ask her to tell him to stay. She didn’t look back until she was in the elevator. She waved before the doors closed.

Tim let out a deep breath. He was doing this. Cass had given him a head start, a way to make a new name for himself.

And he was going to make it.

...

After Cass had left and he had finished packing, he loaded everything he was bringing into Redbird and shut the trunk.

He could still back out. He could go back to the Manor, get his mask, patrol tonight with Dick. He could keep his old life. 

But there was the file. There was the fact that maybe they didn’t want him to keep his old life, they just wanted him out of theirs. And if they didn’t want him, then he sure as hell had nothing to stay for. 

Even if they did want him to stay, Tim thought grimly, he’d still go. They offered nothing in the face of his unwavering devotion, and that was why he was really leaving.

He got in the driver’s seat and buckled in. 

He started the engine. 

He pulled into the heavy Gotham traffic, even though it was so late.

He got on the highway.

He passed the ‘Welcome to Gotham City!’ sign.

And as soon as he drove on the empty highway, and he felt a weight lift from his chest. He turned up the radio and rolled the windows down. And he yelled, just because he could.

He was getting out of the hellhole that had trapped him all twenty-two years of his life, and he felt better about this decision than any other that he had made.

He wasn’t Tim Drake, he was just Tim. And Tim could be anything he wanted. He could sleep late, or become a doctor, or fall in love.

He was out of Gotham, Tim thought, and it was the best feeling he’d had in his life.

He drove all night and through half the morning, stopping occasionally at fast food restaurants for food and bathroom breaks. He had withdrawn half his money from his bank account, in cash, from five different banks around Gotham. He had then driven the opposite way, in case anyone tried to follow him. He had said he would come back, but not until he was ready. 

He was driving through a small town in New York when he decided he had to stop and rest. He had made it seem as though he was headed out of the country, even going as far as parking Redbird in a small international airport in Maryland and buying a ticket in cash to Amsterdam. The airport had a shuttle service, so he paid to be taken to a used car shop about ten miles north. The owner had been suspicious of Tim, but when Tim offered to pay ten thousand dollars above the selling price, his doubts had been erased. Tim had driven off in the crap car and the owner had been fifteen thousand dollars richer.

Tim pulled up to a bed and breakfast just above Albany at nine o’clock in the morning. He had tried to avoid New York City traffic, but it had set him back. 

The woman at the front desk smiled at him. “Hello, how can I help you?”

Tim smiled his friendliest smile. “I’m just passing through, I’m from out of town. I just… had a few questions.”

“Sure,” the woman said, adjusting her glasses.

“So…” Tim started, stretching his arms above his head. “I’m looking to… start fresh. I was thinking New York City, but I’m not sure anymore. Where… where are some good places around here to settle?”

“Well,” the woman said, “do you want to live in a city, or someplace quieter?”

Tim considered. He had grown used to the hustle and bustle of Gotham, so he didn’t think he could survive some small country town, but he also didn’t want all the noise.

“Maybe somewhere in the middle. In a city, I guess, but just a quieter area.”

“Well, Boston has some nice neighborhoods.” She opened a drawer and shuffled through some papers. “If you’re looking to go to school, they have a bunch of great ones around there. Not a long drive to some great sights. And it’s close to the ocean if you like to swim.” She pulled a thick brochure from the drawer and handed it to him. “The neighborhood might depend on your price range, though.”

Tim nodded. “Boston. It… sounds nice, actually.”

The woman smiled. “I’m Tara. I might be a little biased, I grew up around the Boston area.”

“Well,” Tim laughed, “I’m glad I met you. I’m Tim.”

“Did you need a place to stay tonight? We have some rooms open.”

“I would love to book a room. How far a drive is it from here to Boston?”

She pressed her lips together. “Maybe three, three and a half hours? It’ll depend on the traffic.”

Tim looked at the brochure. “Boston, here I come.”

...

Jason slammed a hand on the table. “We can’t keep pretending nothing is wrong.”

They were all seated around the dining room table after Bruce had called a meeting. No one had heard from Tim in five days, and he hadn’t been out on any patrols. Bruce tried to hide his worry from the rest of the Bats, but the fact that they were having this meeting at all was a bad sign.

“I know,” Bruce said, rubbing a hand over his face. “I wanted to give Tim some space, but I’m worried for him.”

And that was the heart of the problem. They were all worried, but they didn’t know what to do. 

“I’ve tried calling,” Dick offered. “I tried his cell, the comms, every single safehouse. I haven’t heard a peep.”

“I tried to trace his online presence,” Babs said. “He took a bunch of money out of his bank account, but it didn’t flag because he withdrew at several different banks and each withdrawal was under his alarm value. He tossed his phone. Nothing else has pinged.”

“He has not been on patrol,” Damian said with a scowl. “He should know that puts undue pressure on the rest of us.”

“He’s hurting,” Dick chided. “We need to show him we care.”

“Well, maybe we should actually go find him.” Steph sat up straighter in her chair. “Tim and I have had a lot of fights, but we always made sure we could reach each other in case of an emergency. This isn’t like him.”

“I agree with Steph,” Jason said, standing. “Tim isn't himself, but there are only so many places to hide in Gotham. Tim has to be somewhere.”

Bruce nodded. “Agreed.”

“I say we find him!” Damian shouted.

“We can’t overwhelm him,” Babs reminded them. “We have to go slow.”

Alfred put his hand into the middle of the table. “I shall help.”

Bruce, Damian, Dick, and Steph put their hands on top.

“Everyone who’s able will search his safe houses,” Jason said, adding his hand. 

“I’ll search and coordinate all online activities.” Babs added her hand.

All eyes turned to the last person seated at the table.

“Cass?” Bruce asked.

She looked up, looked at their hands, and sighed.

Jason frowned. She looked nervous, he thought. No, he corrected as she bit her lip. She looked guilty.

“Tim’s gone,” she blurted, much louder than she usually spoke.

“What do you mean, Tim’s gone?” Jason asked, bristling.

She rubbed her hands together. “The night that it all...happened, Tim went to one of his undocumented safe houses."

“Drake doesn’t have any of those.”

She raised an eyebrow. “None that he informed you of, hence, undocumented.”

“That explains why I couldn’t find him the night I went looking,” Dick hummed.

“But what do you mean he’s gone?” Jason asked again.

Cass took a deep breath. “I went to see him.” She held up a finger when Damian opened his mouth. “Let me finish. I went to see him, and he was packing a suitcase to leave. I kind of figured he would be leaving, so I said goodbye. Tim asked me not to tell you he was leaving, so I didn’t. Then I left. I didn’t ask where he was going, and he didn’t tell me.”

The silence that followed her words left a hole in Jason’s stomach. The shock was written on the faces of those present.

“So, Tim is gone.” Jason felt something weird rising in his chest. He had wanted Tim gone since the moment he knew that Tim existed, so he should be happy. But he had been getting better. He had made tentative reconciliation with his family, and although Tim still tensed whenever he had to share the same air as Jason, there wasn’t the same open hostility as before. 

“Yes.”

Steph spoke up first. “We still have to find him!”

Bruce frowned. “Maybe that wouldn’t be the best idea.”

Alfred fixed him with a stare that had made every Robin and Batman quiver in their boots. “Timothy is lost, Master Bruce. We are the ones who must find him.”

“I’m with Alfred.” Jason could hear the words spilling from his mouth, but he couldn’t stop them. “Tim needs us, and we weren’t there for him before. He’s lost so many people already, he can’t lose us, too.”

“You hate Drake,” Damian sneered.

“No,” Jason said. “No, I don’t.”

“So you’re saying we should forget all of our responsibilities here, and start a worldwide manhunt for Tim?” Dick threw his hands up. “We can’t just drop everything we do here.”

“Oh, I forgot,” Jason said viciously. “You don’t care about Tim. You almost sent him to his grave after Bruce died, and now you want him to really get lost-”

“Jason!” Babs interrupted sharply.

Shame colored Dick’s cheeks dark red. “I-I just think we need to think about this.”

“A plan of action would help,” Bruce pondered. This drew several nods from around the table. Jason noted that only Alfred and Steph remained still.

“Tim isn’t a mission!” Jason cried. “We treat him like a kid, but he’s better at this than all of us.” 

“So he’ll be deeper undercover than any of us could be.”

“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t put all of our efforts into this!”

“We need a plan, Jason.” Bruce’s eyes hardened and Jason knew the fight was lost. “It’s the only way we’ll get him back.”

Jason shoved his chair back. “I’m finding him, with or without your help. Screw ‘making a plan!’ Every second we’re not looking, every resource we don’t put into this, the further away Tim gets. By the time you make a plan, which is code for putting so little effort into the search that nothing gets done, Tim will be unfindable. We’ll be seventy and stumble into him in some store and have all our lives together wasted!”

“We need a plan.” Bruce looked old, Jason thought. Tired.

“Screw your plan,” Jason hissed. “I’m bringing Tim back. If you want to help me, you can.”

He walked out of the room, and Bruce felt a little piece of him crumble as he watched, for the second time in as many days, one of his Robins walk out on him.


	3. the universe was made just to be seen by my eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim continues distancing himself, and Jason finds some supporters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a short chapter, but I really liked writing it if only because of Damian and the accents. Jason and Tim are going to have more scenes together soon, once things start to pick up. Also a big thank you to Rikway, who asked why Cass was helping Tim and then trying to bring him back. I edited this chapter, so Cass is no longer helping Jason and instead it's Steph and Kon. Huge thank you to Rikway!  
> Enjoy!

Tara hadn’t been lying about Boston. She had convinced him to book a room and stay a night, but they had both stayed up late in the living room planning Tim’s next steps. A nice neighbourhood for a decent price were all the requirements Tim had for a house, but he still hadn’t decided on a job. Cass had made sure that each identity had backups and good job opportunities, but he wasn’t ready to think about that yet. He had most of his money still in cash, all of his things in his trunk, and no place to live. He could think about a job next.

“What about this one?” Tara had said, holding up a picture of an apartment. “It’s in a great spot, top floor, and the rent is so cheap!”

Tim had raised an eyebrow. “Does it say why it’s so cheap?”

After a call to the realtor, Tim had been informed that the apartment had been the setting for a murder. “Nasty business,” the man had said. “Guy stabbed ‘is wife eleven times ‘cause she said she wrecked the cah. Real sick, real sick.”

But after assurances that no, the blood had been cleaned up, and yes, the man was in jail, Tim had set up an appointment to see the place.

“You’re braver than I am, Tim” Tara had said with a shudder. “That would creep me out.”

He had said goodbye to her the next morning and felt her slip her number into his pocket. He rubbed it absently as he pulled up to the building. A man who had been leaning against the brick building approached his car.

“Ah you Tim?” the slightly muffled voice asked. 

Tim nodded and rolled down the window. “Are you Mr. Spaker?”

“I am. You ready to look inside?”

Tim opened the door, stepped out, and shook the man’s hand. It felt clammy, and his moustache jumped as he talked. 

“You’re the first one to look at this place,” Spaker said, leading him up the steps. “The murdah’s a turn off for most people.”

“I really need a place,” Tim responded with a smile.

The apartment was nice, much nicer than Tim had expected. A stairway at the end of the hallway led onto the roof. Inside the walls were white and Tim forced himself not to imagine them with red streaks. The kitchen was big enough, with a refrigerator and microwave part of the deal. There were two bedrooms, a living room, and a little office space. Spaker had opened his arms wide.

“Whaddaya think?”

“I’ll take it,” Tim said without hesitation.

“Wonderful, wonderful.” Spaker reached out to shake his hand. “I have the papers in my briefcase, so if you want to meet anytime-”

“Actually,” Tim interrupted, “I was thinking I could pay and move in immediately.”

Spaker’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “Sure, if ya want. My brotha owns the building, and he usually asks for two months up front.”

“I’ll make it three in cash.”

“My kinda guy,” Spacer boomed, laughing and clapping him on the back. “I’ll get someone to witness the signing, and then it’s all yours!”

Tim stood in the open space three hours later, a little bit poorer but much happier.

“I’ve got my own place,” Tim whispered, spinning in a circle. “It’s all mine.”

...

Jason growled in frustration. “If he’s going across the world, my job just got a lot harder.”

Jason had enlisted Steph and Alfred to help him find Tim, and both had readily agreed. Alfred had followed the traffic cameras and Jason and Steph the tips of cashiers and gas station employees to track Tim. His car was too nice to forget, but now they were in front of Tim’s car and Tim was nowhere to be seen.

Steph sighed next to him. “I've been following the identities Cass gave him, but he hasn't used any of them yet.”

Jason turned to her. “How'd you get those?”

Steph blushed. "They were on her nightstand." 

"So you snuck into her room. Or you were already there.”

She frowned at him. “We're trying to find Tim, not dissect my love life.”

“I'm not letting this go. I always wondered if the two of you-”

“Todd, Brown!”

Jason whirled around, his hand flying to his belt. Damian was walking towards them, looking for all the world like he owned the airport. Tim's clone friend was a step behind him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jason yelled, then stopped. “Actually, I want to know _how_ the hell you got here!”

“I can drive. I followed you.”

“You are fourteen,” Steph piped up. “You can’t drive.”

“I drove,” Kon said, giving Damian a look. “He was in the passenger seat.”

Jason took a deep breath. “What are you two doing here?”

“Looking for Drake,” Damian responded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Kon nodded.

“You don’t like Drake,” Jason reminded him. “You don’t even like me.”

“Father is behaving like a moody child, and Grayson has tripped off of three buildings because they are both so preoccupied thinking about him.” Damian sniffed. “It’s embarrassing, and I want it fixed. Even if it requires Drake’s return.”

“Aw, you old softie!” Jason cooed.

“If you touch my hair, I will kill you.”

“Noted,” Jason said, pulling his hand back. 

"Tim's my best friend," Kon said, straightening. "When I came back from the dead, I could tell he wasn't the same. I'm here to help however I can." 

“One of the IDs has been activated,” Steph informed them, eyes glued to her phone.

“IDs?” Damian asked.

Jason waved him off. “Where?”

“Boston. He opened a bank account under the name, ‘Tim Randolph.’”

Damian looked at the three of them. “Well?”

“Well, what?” Jason shot back, already starting to walk back to their car. 

_“Well,”_ Damian emphasized, like Jason was an especially slow toddler, “Drake ran off for a reason. He hates all of us. If we go in and bluntly ask him to come back, like you obviously intend to, he’ll say no and run farther. And he’ll know to not use traceable IDs.”

Jason stared at him. “You’re pretty smart for a four-year-old.”

Damian growled.

“I agree.” Kon stepped between them. “Tim isn't himself right now, he won't welcome our appearance or apologies.”

An idea sparked in the back of Jason’s mind, so crazy and unexpected that he astounded himself. “So, if Tim isn’t himself, we can’t be ourselves.”

“What are you playing at, Todd?”

He fixed them all with an evil grin. “I say we go undercover.”

Steph groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do y'all feel about a Jason the alternating POVs? Do you want any others besides Tim and Jason?  
> Song - "Saturn" by Sleeping At Last


End file.
